


where she belongs

by brooklynapple



Series: Earning Her Collar [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Collars, Domme Hilda, F/F, Kink, Polyamory, Sex but also Feelings, Strap-Ons, Sub Marianne, Throne Sex, all hail queen hilda, alternate universe - d/s verse, marianne finds her place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:26:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24400546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynapple/pseuds/brooklynapple
Summary: Marianne slips back into old self-doubting habits shortly after she and Hilda move to Almyra for Hilda's marriage to Claude. Queen Hilda takes her beloved submissive to the throne room and shows her exactly where she belongs.The third in a series of prequel fics to theImperativeseries created bydustofwarfareand co-authored byohmyfae.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Hilda Valentine Goneril
Series: Earning Her Collar [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720147
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58
Collections: DS-Verse FE3H Fics





	where she belongs

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place in and is inspired by the d/s-verse AU in the Imperative series created by dustofwarfare and ohmyfae, linked above in the summary.
> 
> Here’s the standard note/disclaimer for this AU: This fic and others in this 'verse are predicated on the idea there's a biological imperative to fulfill dominance/submission urges (including some sadism/masochism) and might trip some sensitivities because of it. It's not intended to be either dub-con or non-con, so it's not tagged that way, but if you're sensitive to the whole "biological need to submit/dominate" thing, keep this in mind.

“Sweet girl, what’s wrong? Are you still thinking about last night?”

Marianne sits at Hilda’s feet in her room in the royal suite of the Almyran palace, naked save for her collar. Hilda is combing her hair, which is normally one of Marianne’s favorite activities, and one of the easiest ways to settle her if she’s feeling agitated or upset. Today, though, she cannot quiet the dark swirl of doubts in her head.

“I...I am. You and Claude are so wonderful to me, but I still can’t help feeling like I’m a burden. Claude’s the king, and you came here to be his queen. You shouldn’t have to waste both of your time settling me like you had to do last night. I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, what did we say about apologizing?” 

Hilda laces just a bit of dominance into her gentle tone as she chides Marianne. It’s not enough to compel Marianne to kneel, which she knows Hilda would ask for directly if she wanted it, but it’s enough to make her bow her head and fold her hands in her lap contritely. 

“I know, you’re right, it’s just - you’re the queen now. It’s hard for me to feel like I’m worthy to be collared to royalty. And Claude is your husband and I...I don’t know what my place is here. Or why I deserve one.”

“Marianne. My gorgeous, wonderful girl. Look around. Where are we?” 

Hilda gestures at the room, with its rich tapestries, luxurious bed, and plenty of cushions for sitting and kneeling. It’s decorated in calming colors with Almyran motifs depicting birds and flowers and animals, all the things that Marianne loves. There’s a delicate tea set with a stock of her favorite teas, and a bookshelf full of books from Fodlan. And there are hooks in the walls for cuffs, a chest full of Hilda’s handcrafted toys, and a special gilt wardrobe to house her selection of submissives’ robes.

“We’re in my room. In the royal palace.” Marianne hesitates, unsure what answer Hilda is looking for.

“We’re in the special room in the royal suite reserved just for the queen’s submissive. For _you_ , baby girl. _This_ is your place here, and it’s an honored one. You’re as much a part of the royal family as I am.”

Marianne looks at the opulence around her. She wishes she could see it the way Hilda does, as something she naturally deserves for being as wonderful and regal as she knows Hilda is. Instead she manages a small smile, and a sigh.

She feels Hilda’s arms wrap around her shoulders, and a kiss on the back of her neck. “My precious girl, remember when we were first talking about moving here, when Claude and I started discussing marriage? I was willing to leave behind Fodla-la-land, and my House, and everything else that I knew to go with Claude to Almyra, as scary as it sounded at the time. But what was the one thing I wouldn’t leave behind? My one condition?”

Marianne leans her cheek against Hilda’s arm. “Me. You said you wouldn’t go unless I came with you.”

Marianne recalls how hard that discussion had been. Not for Claude, who was perfectly happy to have them both come to Almyra, but for her. She had told Hilda that she didn’t want to hold her back, that she was a burden Hilda should leave behind now that she had a chance to become royalty. She even tried giving back her collar. It was the only time she had ever made Hilda cry. 

Luckily Hilda is nothing if not stubborn, even if Marianne still can’t quite believe she’s worthy of someone so kind and caring and amazing.

“You’re damn right I wouldn’t go without you. I’m not willing to leave you, not ever. Fodlan is just a place. You’re my home. I need you here with me.”

An ache wells up in Marianne’s chest, hearing Hilda talk about her that way. “Part of me knows that, but there’s this voice in my head, the one I’ve told you about before. It says that you just brought me here to have something familiar while you got used to Almyra. And now that you’re used to it, you don’t need me anymore.” She looks down at the floor.

Hilda rises and moves to stand in front of Marianne. She takes Marianne’s face in her hands and tilts her head up. “Marianne. My pretty, amazing girl. Kneel.” 

There is no disobeying Hilda when she puts the full force of her dominance into her voice. Mariane tucks her legs underneath her and comes to her knees. Hilda still gently holds her head in place, maintaining eye contact. The look on her face is fierce, loving, possessive and full of undisguised _want_. 

“Do you feel that? I know you do. Doing this together must light up the submissive parts of your brain the way it absolutely sets off all of my dominant parts. It’s never been like this with anyone else, only you. Can you really say that you don’t think I need you anymore? Baby girl, I will never stop needing this. Needing _you_.”

She crouches down and kisses her. It’s a kiss that brooks no disagreement, aggressive and tender at the same time, just like Hilda herself. Marianne is struck for the thousandth time by how well Hilda knows what she needs, giving her that perfect blend of affection and dominance.

She is breathless by the time Hilda breaks off the kiss. Hilda studies her face carefully, as though searching for traces of lingering doubt to eradicate through sheer force of will. If anyone can do it, Hilda can.

Hilda smiles at her and runs a thumb across her lower lip. “I love you, sweet girl. So much. You know that, right?”

Marianne manages a small smile in return. “I know you love me, I really do. And I love you too, more than anything. I just still don’t understand my place in all of this, now that you’re the queen.”

Something suddenly shifts in Hilda’s expression, a decision made, and she stands up and snaps her fingers. 

“I know what needs to happen here. Come on baby girl, put on your submissive’s robe. The queen would like her submissive to accompany her on a walk.”

A sly grin paints its way across Hilda’s face. Marianne knows that look, though it usually involves Hilda asking her to take her clothes off rather than put them on. But when Hilda sets her mind to something, there really is no other choice than to obey. She goes to the wardrobe and slips into her favorite robe, blue as a summer sky and decorated with intricately embroidered birds.

She sees Hilda close the toy chest at the foot of the bed as she turns back around. Hilda grins at her but says nothing, simply holds out her arm for Marianne to take as they set out on their walk.

Marianne has seen some dominants walk their submissives on a leash, or make them crawl after their master, or command them to walk six paces behind, silent and with their head properly bowed. None of that is Hilda’s style, at least not with her. Hilda likes Marianne to “walk beside me and hang onto my arm and look pretty, so that everyone can see what a gorgeous, obedient submissive I have.” She sometimes does it to Claude, too, saying she wants to show off her hot king, and Claude just laughs and says he doesn’t mind being her arm candy. Marianne doesn’t mind either; she likes serving Hilda this way, and Hilda always looks so happy and proud when they’re walking together.

They walk along the corridors of the palace’s royal quarter, then down a set of wide stone stairs and into the throne room with its soaring, vaulted ceilings and sunlight pouring through massive windows. No official court business is scheduled today, so the room is empty, their footsteps echoing off of the brightly colored tiles and high stone arches.

Hilda stops as they reach the two thrones on a raised dais at the front of the room. They are the largest objects in the room by far, looming over the vast chamber and absolutely breathtaking in their ornate decoration. Claude says that they represent the pinnacle of Almyran craftsmanship and Marianne can see why, carved as they are in intricate interlaced patterns overlaid with gold and studded with gems. Cushions of the finest embroidered silk line the back and seat of each throne, and sit atop the equally opulent stools alongside each throne for the king and queen’s submissives.

Hilda ascends the stairs and turns to look at Marianne. “Submissives have an honored place in Almyran society. It’s expected that the King and Queen will have them, and they’re considered part of the royal family. You know that. Your place is right here.” 

She sits on her throne and gestures to the ornate cushioned stool next to it. The gesture is full of unspoken dominance, and Marianne finds herself kneeling on the stool before she even realizes her body has moved to obey.

Hilda is truly in her element on a throne, radiating casual dominance and command as easily as the sun radiates light and heat through the room’s many stained glass windows. And to Marianne’s eyes, she is just as dazzling. Hilda gives her a benevolent smile while she pets and praises her, telling her what a beautiful, amazing girl she is and how she makes her so happy.

“This is your place, pretty girl. Right here next to me. You belong here, because you belong to me. You’re the queen’s submissive, and your role is to serve the queen.”

Hilda’s mouth curls into a wicked smile as she says this, and there is no mistaking her intent. Marianne feels Hilda push on the back of her head, guiding her closer as she spreads her legs wide. She is once again overcome by how wonderful Hilda is, how Hilda knows that what she needs most right now is to be controlled, shown exactly what to do so she can silence the voice in her head and just give in and _serve_. 

And so she does, kissing her way up Hilda’s inner thighs and biting just as hard as Hilda likes before burying her face between her queen’s legs, kneeling at the foot of the throne to give Hilda what is hers by divine right. 

Hilda is loud when she comes, the sound of her pleasure echoing off the cavernous ceiling. She is unashamed to have her submissive please her like this in the throne room where anyone might see, and why should she be? She is the queen, and Marianne’s job, her _joy_ , is to serve her and make her feel good wherever and whenever she wants it. 

Hilda pulls Marianne onto her lap as she finishes and kisses her lustily, heedless of the mess she’s made of Marianne’s face. She opens Marianne’s robe and slides it down her shoulders, baring her breasts. Marianne blushes, knowing that someone could come in and see her at any moment, and yet she also feels a thrill of desire coil between her legs at the thought of it. 

Hilda murmurs to her, low and deliciously wicked. “You did such a good job, pretty girl, making me come with your mouth like that. But now I want you here, on my throne with me.”

Hilda’s hands are on her now, cupping her breasts, palms brushing over her sensitive nipples. Marianne takes a shuddering breath as Hilda teases them with her fingers, gently pinching and plucking until they harden under her touch. She shifts in Hilda’s lap, feeling herself getting more and more wet the longer Hilda keeps touching and teasing. 

Hilda bends forward to nibble and bite at her neck, making her gasp and shiver. “That’s it, my gorgeous, obedient girl. This is what it means to serve the queen. It means having you naked and coming apart in my lap whenever I want because it pleases me _so very much_.”

She makes a low noise in the back of her throat and pulls Marianne’s robe completely off, casting it to the floor. Marianne arches under Hilda’s touch and basks in her praise, head swimming with the rush of making Hilda feel good by being naked and vulnerable and open in her lap. Hilda’s hands make her skin tingle everywhere they touch, and she cries out softly in pleasure as Hilda takes one of her nipples into her mouth and bites gently.

At that moment a servant walks into the room and pulls up short in surprise, no doubt not expecting to find his queen and her naked submissive there on the throne. Marianne’s cheeks flush scarlet, but Hilda simply gives the servant a brief, respectful nod and continues taking her pleasure from Marianne’s body. The servant bows with a smile and murmurs something apologetically in Almyran before making a graceful retreat.

Hilda laughs and whispers in Marianne’s ear. “Did you hear that sweet girl? He called you ‘bird singer’. They already have a name for you here. They know you’re right where you belong.”

Marianne’s head spins. Hilda’s relentless hands and mouth have already overwhelmed her senses, and she doesn’t know what to do with the knowledge that the people here have accepted her and given her a name. The thought that someone could see her like this, naked and wanton in Hilda’s lap, and simply smile and bow like it was the most natural thing in the world is bewildering and somehow also comforting at the same time.

Then Hilda’s nails dig into her inner thighs and her teeth bite sharply at the base of her neck, and all other thoughts abandon her.

“Pretty girl, doing this to you is driving me absolutely wild. Now that you’re good and ready for me, I’m going to take you like a queen.”

Hilda reaches into a bag at her side that Marianne hadn’t noticed until now. She takes out her harness and strap and gives Marianne the most wicked, delighted grin. 

In no time at all, Hilda has the strap fastened securely between her legs. She pulls Marianne back onto her lap, grasps her sparkling gold cock in one hand, and fucks her there on the throne. Marianne is wet, so wet from all of Hilda’s attention, and Hilda’s strap fills and stretches her just right, soothing the ache that has been building between her legs. 

Hilda’s hands are firm and strong as they hold her hips in place, and her eyes gleam with determined glee as she thrusts hard and fast, clearly relishing the act of fucking her submissive into a moaning, writhing mess on her throne. 

“You’re mine, you’ll always be mine, and whenever you start doubting that I’m going to bring you right back here and remind you, just like this.” 

Marianne surrenders to the absolute pleasure of having her dominant take her, claim her, overpower her until there is nothing left but the urge to submit. Hilda always knows just how to take care of her, including times like these when what she needs is utter submission, the ultimate act of service that comes from letting her dominant use her body over and over exactly as she likes. 

If anyone happens to walk by and see them when Marianne is like this, so far under that all she can feel or see or think about is Hilda, Marianne no longer notices or cares. 

Hilda doesn’t stop until Marianne has come three times, using her hands and mouth and insistent gold cock to bring Marianne to peak after shivering peak. By the time they are done Marianne is farther under than she’s been in a very long time. She sinks to the floor and leans her head against Hilda’s leg, smiling and complacent and content as Hilda strokes her hair and tells her what a good, amazing, gorgeous girl she is. 

They stay that way for a while, basking in the glow of calm intimacy that they only seem to find with each other, especially after a scene. When Hilda finally drapes her robe around her and gently leads her back to the royal suite, Marianne is ready to go with her. She lets Hilda bathe her, brush her hair, and feed her some bread and fruit by hand before they curl together in the enormous bed in the royal bedchamber. 

Lying there with Hilda’s strong arms wrapped around her, she realizes that this, too, is part of what it means to serve - letting her dominant know that she feels taken care of, that she’s happy by Hilda’s side and knows that’s where she belongs. It still feels a little impossible, like being given a gift that she can never hope to repay, but in that moment Marianne finally starts to believe that she’s right where she needs to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m [quorniya](https://twitter.com/quorniya) on Twitter, and also help run Marihilda discord.


End file.
